A Change in Management
by tokyobleach
Summary: Kaori, along with her friend and companion, Charon, both wander and help shape the future of the wasteland as they cross paths with the Lone Wanderer. Eventual, very mild romances possible. Reviews are welcome. Rated T for blood and gore, mild language.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter I

The doors to The Ninth Circle flung open violently. I would have been concerned, had I not seen the doors sling inward on their hinges like that before. Only one person was dumb enough to burst in here without being afraid I'd tear their fingers off.

The girl slammed the doors behind herself, the sound harshly striking my right eardrum and sounding muffled in my left, the more battered of the two.

"Hi, Charon!" chimed a tiny, feminine, human voice. It was her, the... curious one who barraged me with questions, even though I could never answer.

I looked down, and my eyes met two sparkling, almond-shaped emeralds. A beatific smile spread across her bloodied heart-shaped face, a thin stream of blood running from her lower lip to her chin. A lock of hair as red as that blood fell across her face and rested on her small, freckled nose.

"Talk to Ahzrukhal," I said simply, nodding toward the bar a few feet away.

"I know, I know! But-" she began, rifling through a satchel at her side, balancing precariously as her heavy backpack threatened to fall off one shoulder. She lifted her free hand and pressed it to her now-bleeding nose.

I took her by her slender shoulders before she could topple over and get her blood all over Ahzrukhal's floor. I took a final, fleeting look at her bewildered face, feeling my employer's eyes on me. He knew I was lingering on it for too long. "Talk. To. Ahzrukhal."

My overly-gentle grip tightened slightly as I turned her to face the bar. My hands slid from her shoulders, and she walked to the nearest stool, removing her backpack and sitting down.

She quickly began to converse with Ahzrukhal, and he slid a bottle of wine, a few stimpaks, and two bottles of whiskey across the counter. The girl absently ran her fingers along the red velvet rope by her left side as she started to ask about me, excitedly grinning. Last time she was here, about a week or two ago, she'd asked pretty much the same questions.

A thud from the next room caught my attention, and I was loathe to leave my usual spot in the corner. By the time I got back, she'd probably be gone, and she was the only thing around this place that wasn't routine and repetitive.

Lying on the floor in the room that contained Ahzrukhal's bed was an unconscious Patchwork, passed out by one of the tables. I picked him up by his shirt, feeling the rotting fabric begin to tear and then give way, ripping with a harsh sound. The drunk fell to the floor, one of his stitched-on fingers breaking off at the first joint and dripping blood on Ahzrukhal's floor. I had a feeling Ahzrukhal would make me scrub that part of the floor until it shone, regardless of the fact that it had been filthy before. According to him, blood made things look unprofessional in here.

The sound of hundreds of bottle caps clanking together and a small exclamation from Ahzrukhal emanated from the next room. The girl couldn't be dumb enough to rob him, could she?

I drew my shotgun and rushed back to the bar, regretting that I'd have to kill the most unpredictable aspect of my life, the only thing I found interesting.

The strange sight that met my eyes when I stepped into the threshold caused me to both lower my gun and raise what was left of an eyebrow.

Ahzrukhal was drooling over a huge pile of what had to be at least a couple thousand caps that had been poured out on the counter, and the girl was beaming, white teeth flashing between her still-bleeding lips.

"Charon!" she exclaimed excitedly as her pale hand dove into her now-emptied satchel.

"Talk to-"

"Slow down, there," she giggled, a sound I hadn't heard anyone make in years, "I have good news. I'm your new employer!" She pulled a familiar, battered piece of paper from the satchel, apparently the only thing she'd had in there after emptying it of caps.

"You purchased my contract from Ahzrukhal?" I asked, eyeing that paper I despised so much, feeling the urge to tear it to pieces and knowing I couldn't. "So, I am no longer in his service." I felt a perverse satisfaction at these words. "That is good to know." I couldn't even count the number of years I'd waited for this.

The girl, finally noticing the profusely bleeding gash on her lip, awkwardly lifted the collar of her tank top and placed it between her lips, holding it in place with her teeth while she rummaged through her pack.

"Please, wait here, " I said, and she looked at me questioningly, still biting down on her collar. I began to walk forward and added, "I must take care of something."

I stepped in front of Ahzrukhal, and he lifted his head a little, his eyes still on all those caps. I looked at him, my expression asking all the questions for me, but nonetheless, said, "Ahzrukhal, I am told I am no longer in your service."

"That's right, Charon," he began, and I felt my rage start to boil as he pronounced my name as if it were Sharon for the thousandth time. He continued, "Have you come to say goodbye?"

"Yes." I fired my shotgun, and his head exploded, his brains and blood splattering on his safe and the refrigerator. I shot again. Overkill. It felt good.

The girl gulped and reached for the .44 on her hip as if she felt she'd be next.

"Alright, let's go."

He emerald eyes met mine, fringed with long eyelashes the same color as her hair. I became aware that she had dark circles under her eyes, as if she'd been up for days. She pulled her collar from her mouth and blinked once, injecting herself with a stimpak. She calmly and quietly looked at me, seriously assessing my actions from a moment ago. Suddenly, she beamed, her pouty soft pink lips now healed with no trace of the wound that plagued them before, "Sounds good. Let's get out of here."

"As you wish," I said, a faint smile playing on my rotten lips.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

I looked up at the sky as Charon and I walked out of the metro tunnels. It seemed like we had been walking for ages in there, but my Pip-Boy said it was still the same day as when we'd entered. It always seemed like an endless walk in those tunnels, so I wasn't surprised.

I crouched in a corner, wordlessly checking my location. My Pip-Boy said I was at Anacostia Crossing. How I'd ended up here when I'd been aimlessly wandering was a mystery, but those metro tunnels were so mazelike that it was nearly impossible not to get lost anyway.

"No danger here," I said to Charon with a grin as I stood up and brushed my hair away from my face.

"I'm already aware of that," he replied from the top of the stairs, clutching the head of a Talon Mercenary in one hand and his combat knife in the other.

I frowned, then walked up the stairs and began to rummage through the dead merc's belongings. Nine bottle caps, an empty Jet inhaler, and a pair of leather gloves. I pocketed the caps and slid the gloves into my satchel. A bad haul, to say the least.

Biting my lip, I looked up at the sky and was dismayed to see that it was close to dusk.

"Charon," I began, my eyelids growing heavy already, "I've been up for a few days now, and it's extremely dangerous to be outside at night. Let's go back in the metro and find a place to sleep."

"As you wish," he replied, his footsteps heavily falling behind mine as I descended the stairs once again.

I poked my head in a few rooms, finding nowhere safe enough for us to sleep without being easy targets for any Raider who passed through.

Charon grabbed my forearm gently, his rotten skin's touch a new kind of sensation for my own. Rough, cold as death on my sunburns and scrapes, yet there was a softness behind his touch, as if he were wary of doing something so bold. He hesitantly pulled his hand away, "Why not sleep in the ticket booth? You'd be safe, and I could keep watch easily."

I nodded sleepily and unrolled my sleeping bag, using my pack as a pillow. As I closed my eyes, I mumbled, "Charon, why haven't you asked for my name yet?"

"Do you wish for me to know your name?" he replied, sitting propped against the ticket booth's doorway.

"I'm Kaori. Kaori Vance," I said, then patted the spot next to me, "You should sleep, too. You aren't any good to me without rest, and vice versa."

"That is not covered in my contract," he replied.

"This isn't about the contract, it's about my concern for my friend," I sat up to look at him sternly.

What remained of the skin on his face flushed red, "Those quarters look a little too close for comfort... Kaori."

"Or perhaps it's the most comfortable closeness we need," I giggled before rolling over. "I'm just messing with you, Charon. I thought you'd sleep better if you could lie down is all."

"Thank you, but I am fine sleeping here," he said, regaining his poker face.

"As you wish," I said, my consciousness fading a few moments later.

. . .

My eyes shot open several hours later, the world around me hazy and disorienting. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, yawning widely.

To my surprise, I saw that Charon was awake and sitting exactly as he was when I'd fallen asleep, his back against the doorway of the ticket booth. I stared at him for a minute before his cloudy blue eyes lazily rolled as he sighed.

"I was awake all night keeping watch," he muttered, his eyes focused on the shotgun in his lap as if it were more important than the world around him.

"Why did you-"

He nodded toward something outside the ticket booth, "Them."

I leaned across him to peek outside and my hands slipped in a puddle of fresh blood. I fell forward, bashing my chin on the floor with a hollow thud, feeling Charon's legs tense underneath me.

"Be careful," he mumbled, and attempted to help me up.

"Hang on," I slurred, my tongue thick and painful. I tasted blood, but ignored it as I knocked on the floor. I grinned at the sound that greeted me in response.

"What are you doing, Kaori?"

"It's a floor safe!"

Already, my hands had produced a screwdriver and bobby pin from my pockets. I began to manipulate the lock, feeling the tumblers click within a few seconds. Breathless, I opened the little door and pulled the contents out.

A little golden pocket watch greeted me, still shiny and polished despite the many years it had lain forgotten in the safe.

A wide smile spread across my face as I gently tucked the watch into my satchel, "Well Charon, looks like we're paying a visit to my employer."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

"We just have to get some ammo," Kaori explained as we began to ascend the staircase-like ramp to Rivet City.

"Why didn't we just stay here last night," I began, "instead of-"

"Well, if it ain't little Catherine!" chimed in a loud male voice, followed by booming laughter.

Drawing my shotgun faster than Kaori could react, I spun around on my heels and took aim at the source of the voice.

"Stand down, Charon," Kaori muttered, pushing the barrel of the shotgun toward the ground with one slender finger, her emerald eyes heavy-lidded in mock annoyance. The corners of her velvety amaranth lips curled up in amusement.

"Well," a second man said, blowing a cloud of smoke from between his lips and flicking a cigarette butt over his shoulder, "You have definitely grown up, Catherine... Filled out." He winked and turned to the other man, who just smiled and shook his head.

My fingers twitched in agitation and I pulled my combat knife from its sheath, "She isn't interested."

Kaori laughed coldly and snatched the knife from my grip at a nearly imperceptible speed, revealing a gracefulness that was previously absent. In one smooth, elegant motion, she pressed the blade to my throat and drew my body against hers. It seemed close combat was her specialty. She then growled close to my left ear and said, "I think I know threats when I see them, and I doubt my brother is one."

The smoking man raised an eyebrow, "Kinky." He blew a ring of smoke into the air, "Yeah, Mike, you're gonna need to keep me away from this girl when I'm drunk."

Kaori released me and returned to her usual bubbly demeanor instantly, locking eyes with Mike for a split second before rushing over and embracing him, laughing.

"Where's my hug?" the other man asked jokingly.

Kaori ignored the man and stared intently at her brother, her scarlet eyelashes sharply contrasting with her green eyes. An eerie silence followed, one that nothing dared break. The ramp beneath our feet didn't creak, the ship didn't groan, the wind didn't blow, all for what seemed like ages.

Mike's voice punctured the silence abruptly, "Why did you leave the vault?"

Kaori blinked and looked away guiltily, "Amata said she couldn't tug at her father's heartstrings to keep me safe anymore. Things in there are starting to fall apart, and they got worse after people saw I didn't leave with you."

"I see," he replied, running a hand through his dark brown hair. I noticed his eyes were identical to his sister's, the only evidence of their relation. He was rugged and scarred, tanned and muscular; she was tall and lean, soft and pale, scarless and pure. Then again, maybe he had been like her when he'd left that vault, too. It could have been years since then.

"Speaking of vaults," began the other man smoothly, blowing out a smoke ring and watching it float away, "let me introduce you to the man who helped your brother escape from one." He tipped his black cowboy hat gentlemanly as he continued, "Morgan Hollister, package courier."

"Kaori Vance," replied Kaori with a warm smile, fingering the strap of her satchel with both hands. She glanced sideways at me and jerked her chin toward Mike and Morgan. She wanted me to introduce myself, it seemed.

"Kaori Vance?" inquired Mike just as I'd opened my mouth," You mean Catherine Ryan?" He stepped over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder, "Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt."

"Yes, Kaori," she said, her ears and cheeks reddening, becoming a slightly lighter shade than her hair before biting her lip and adding, "And this is my friend, Charon. I bought his contract yesterday, and although I don't agree with this sort of thing, I have my reasons for buying it... And changing my name as well."

Mike gestured toward the creaking, rusty ship before us, "Let's go inside. Seems we got some catching up to do."

Kaori and Mike walked off ahead of Morgan and I, although we followed close behind them.

As we entered the ship and began to descend the staircase to The Muddy Rudder, I clenched my fists and felt a flash of anger jolt its way through my body. It was hard not to noticed the absence of ghouls in Rivet City. At least, it was hard for me not to. The humans probably didn't even give it a thought. It's not something they usually care about.

Mike opened the door and led his sister in, before stepping inside himself.

Morgan put a hand on my shoulder and stopped me before I could go inside. He looked at me seriously, "I have to ask, is she your girl? I noticed the way you look at her and, well, I'm not stupid. What's between you two?"

I blinked, feeling the familiar pain in my chest that hadn't shown itself since I was human, "She is my employer," I began, the feeling intensifying until it was a thick, aching lump that occupied the entire center of my body, "I am contractually obligated to protect her through all forms of danger, and to obey her wishes. That is all."

It was a good lie, the sort that was nearly impossible to see through. Of course, most of it was true, but I'd protect her even if my contract was still in Ahzrukhal's hands.

That was a better lie, because for a second, I had believed it myself.

That crumpled piece of paper was my soul, and I HAD to listen to its owner, regardless of my emotions.

Morgan shot me an unconvinced look, then shrugged and walked into the bar. I followed behind with a bored sigh. When I took my seat, the one on Kaori's left, Morgan patted my back before taking his own seat across the table from me, "Sounds like you could use a few rounds on me."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter IV

As I stared across the table at my brother, I couldn't shake the feeling that he wouldn't like what I had to tell him. He looked back at me with the same expression, as if he had similar news. All the while, I wondered about our father and where he'd gone.

"So, tell me about the vault," Mike said, then ordered two Nuka-Colas from Belle Bonny, the impatient and haggard barkeep.

I pried my bottlecap off using the corner of the table and took a swig, then looked back up at Mike. His eyes shone brightly under his furrowed brow, a serious expression on his face. I smiled a little. People always said our eyes had a special kind of life in them. We had our mother to thank for that, Dad always told us. Until now, after wandering this wasteland and seeing all the dead-eyed, broken men and women, I'd never noticed just how bright and lively my brother's eyes really were. And I appreciated it.

Charon took the seat next to me and Morgan good-naturedly patted the center of Charon's back, saying, "Sounds like you could use a few rounds on me."

I turned to Charon, "Are you okay?"

He nodded once, his cloudy blue eyes seeming to be tracing the grain of the wooden table in front of us. He paused, thinking, then said, "Nothing a few drinks can't cure."

I looked back at Mike again, "Sorry, Mikey. You know how I accidentally jump subjects."

He smiled, "At least the wasteland hasn't changed you much."

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, a grin spreading across my face as a wave of nostalgia and familiarity washed over my being. "Yeah, guess it hasn't." I looked at the floor for a moment and suddenly felt a sense of loss over my home back in the vault. "I miss the vault, though. It was paradise compared to this. I'd never really even felt hungry before I'd left."

"Yeah," Mike agreed, while pushing a bottlecap around in small circles with his finger," So tell what happened in there."

"Well, when I woke up on the morning you left, my door was locked and there was a note on my dresser. It was from Amata, it seemed. She hadn't signed it, but she was the only person who cared about us enough to try and keep me safe. At first, I didn't believe it, thought it was a joke. But when I opened up my door and saw Amata standing there, just about to knock, tired and upset... I knew it was all real."

Mike closed his eyes and sighed, "I was afraid things wouldn't hold together in there for very long..."

I looked down at the ground, focusing on a spot just to the right of one of Charon's feet. I looked up at him and observed the way he started into the bottom of his glass, taking in everything about it as if there were another world inside that tiny glass that only he could see. He swirled the whiskey around a few times and his eyes followed the rippling liquid.

Morgan tipped back his shot glass and downed all the liquid inside in one smooth motion. He sat the glass back down with a sound akin to the heel of a shoe on wooden floorboards and looked up at me, "You need a drink! Mike won't touch the stuff, but you look like you can handle your alcohol."

I smiled, "Yeah, I've been known to drink a lot in the past."

Mike shot me a look that made him almost a mirror of my father, albeit a younger version, "Keep talking."

Charon peeked at me through the corners of his eyes, taking a sip from his glass. He seemed curious underneath his usual look of indifference.

I smiled a little and resumed my story, "Amata said I was lucky, because her father had sort of liked me, despite all the trouble our family had caused over the years. Mostly, it was just the fact that I'd been pretty isolated from the other kids growing up, being two years younger than most of them."

"I did notice how he went out of his way for you sometimes, you know," Mike said, his arms crossed as he thought, "Like your Pip-Boy. He made sure you got a nicer one than I'd gotten, probably to keep the bullies from having something to pick on you for."

I chucked a little. Everyone but the Overseer knew how well I could handle myself against Butch and the other bullies. Since I was about thirteen, all I'd had to do was bat my eyelashes and give a few giggles and he'd practically start drooling, trying desperately to gain my favor. Before I was that old, I'd just break his nose with a quick punch. "The Overseer seemed to think every girl was as peaceful as his daughter. I, however, have been known to crack a few skulls when things get ugly."

"No kidding," Mike laughed, putting his hands on my shoulder, "Remember your tenth birthday party?" He paused, then explained to Morgan and Charon how Old Lady Palmer usually baked a sweetroll for kids on their birthdays. "Now, at my tenth birthday party, Butch, the vault bully, decided to try and take mine. I ate it in front of him, then slapped him. He cried."

We were laughing as Belle Bonny brought over another round, and she scoffed, as if she'd been listening the whole time. She probably had.

"Now," Mike continued, either not noticing or not caring, "at Catherine's tenth birthday party, Butch tried the same move. She responded a bit differently than I did." He paused for dramatic effect, "She punched him square in the face, then spit on him and wrapped the sweetroll up for later. She knocked him out and he stayed in the infirmary for the night."

Charon and I were the only ones in the bar who didn't laugh. It seemed that Belle Bonny was not the only one eavesdropping.

I slouched over a bit and wished to be invisible. There was a part of that story Mike didn't know. Nobody knew, unless Dad noticed and never mentioned it. He probably had, but I preferred to convince myself that everyone thought I was tough enough to not feel guilty about what I'd done. The memory of it coursed through my mind rather quickly.

_I winced as the door to the clinic slid upward in its metal frame, staying open for what seemed like an eternity. I stepped inside and the door lowered behind me, closing with a metallic creak that made me shiver. I gulped, imagining what my punishment for being out past curfew would be if someone caught me._

_"What are you doing here?" Butch asked loudly, making me jump._

_I held up the brown satchel I'd gotten earlier today from Mike, and the Nuka-Cola bottles inside clanked together. Butch said nothing, so I stepped over to his hospital bed, my bare feet padding lightly on the cold floor. I smiled, "I thought you'd be hungry."_

_He shrugged, faking a look of indifference, then sneered at me, "What are you wearing, anyway? You look frilly."_

_I looked down at my white nightgown, "Um, clothes? I am a girl, you know."_

_He wrinkled his nose, "You sure as heck don't hit like one." He pulled down his lower lip to reveal four stitches where his mouth had hit either the floor or my fist, or maybe both._

_I pulled an ice-cold Nuka-Cola from my satchel and handed it to Butch. "I'm sorry," I said simply, then opened my own bottle on the corner of a metal cart._

_He took out his pocket knife and popped the bottlecap off his Nuka-Cola, "Got any food?"_

_I pulled the sweetroll out of my bag and tossed it to him, "It's not warm anymore, but it is food. I tried to sneak away some of my supper, but they were watching me too closely, and the last thing I want is for people to know I was nice to you. You would do the same thing if you were me."_

_He laughed at me, and my skin flushed in embarrassment. He tensed slightlly, as if expecting another blow, then said with a false toughness, "That's where you're wrong. I wouldn't come visit you after knocking you out. You're just a kid, so I wouldn't even care anyway."_

_I only smiled in response, which caused his temper to flare. I decided to say what I was really thinking, then, "I wouldn't care if you visited me anyway. I'd have plenty of people check on me. But who else visited you?"_

_Butch's eyes left me and veered somewhere to the right. He stayed silent._

_"So," I said carefully, "Let's call a truce, just for tonight."_

_His eyes narrowed slightly as he thought, "Fine, but tomorrow I go back to making you cry and taking your stuff. Tunnel Snakes don't go soft."_

_"I'd put you back in the hospital if you didn't," I replied simply, grinning._

_"So... What's a concussion?"_

Mike was chatting with Morgan when the world came back into focus. He looked at me, "You come back to life?"

I smirked, then raised my shot glass to my lips, tipping it back and swallowing it all at once. It burned the back of my throat as it slid its way down.

Mike was obviously unhappy with that sight, as his eyes were slightly narrowed. Maybe he was curious as to why I'd even touch alcohol.

"The people were becoming very hostile toward me, and I decided after a week or two that I wasn't going to just stand by and let them keep sneering at me, and avoiding me, and blaming me, and-"

Charon surprised me by placing a massive hand on my shoulder, "You should calm down."

I beamed at the gesture, as it implied he did care about my emotional well-being as well as my physical. It implied friendship, and friendship was exactly what I missed most right now.

Mike looked at me and wiped under my eyes with his thumb, "What happened in there?"

I sniffled, unaware that I'd been tearing up, "I made a few new friends. I started running with the Tunnel Snakes."

"Namely Butch, I'm guessing?"

I nodded and rubbed the back of my neck.

"So..." He said, then paused for what felt like hours, "My sister the bully."

"They let me in because Butch had a respectful fear of my fists. I did what I had to so I could be safe."

Morgan patted Mike's back, "From what you've told me, things couldn't have been that bad even if she was a bully. They seem pretty tame compared to the Wastelanders and Raiders we've seen. Now remember not to jump to conclusions."

"It doesn't mean either of us are bad people, you know," I said, feeling Charon's hand on my shoulder again.

"Butch DeLoria," began Mike, looking as if he were pondering Butch's personality, "Nice?"

"Sort of."

"So, what did you do exactly while with the Tunnel Snakes?" Mike asked as I took another drink.

"Well, I did whatever I had to. Stole, lied, fought. All to make people fear me, of course." My answer was robotic, and it was obvious that I neglected to tell them something.

"Alright," Mike said sternly, "What's going on? What aren't you telling us?"

I cursed silently, "I wasn't supposed to leave the vault alone. Someone wanted to come with me."

Morgan drank what had to be his seventh shot of whiskey and said, "Must have been Butch."

I choked a little on my own shot and felt if drip down my chin as I coughed it back up. The stench of alcohol flooded my nostrils and my stomach threatened to empty itself.

Morgan laughed, "You're easy to see through, girl. On top of that, you've had a lot to drink. You should quit before I get drunk, too. I don't have reason, then."

Charon, seeming to be a bit more sociable with alcohol in his system, laughed and replied with, "If you did, I think I could handle it. I was a bouncer up until yesterday."

"Hey, wait!" Morgan exclaimed, "I know you! You're the one who threw me out of The Ninth Circle that one time!"

Charon's lips curled up at the corners.

"My knee still hurts from that!"

We all laughed, and for a moment, I felt like I was home, with nothing in the world to worry about.

Mike tapped his hand on the table as if he were remembering something, "Right! So what made you buy Charon's contract anyway?"

I smiled, "That's an easy one. He reminds me of a friend from Megaton. Someone else who deserved a friend, but was denied that by his employer. Everyone deserves freedom."

"But how free is he if you have his contract?" Mike asked sternly, the big brother in him showing.

Charon interrupted, "It's as free as I'm gonna get. That paper is my very soul, and I'm afraid of what life is like without it." He was drunk. Then again, I probably was too.

"What about your name, Catherine?" Mike asked. It seemed he wanted answers out of me before I got too drunk.

"Well, that one is pretty simple," I began, shoving my drink over to Charon, finished with drinking for today, "I didn't like how Three Dog covered the news on our family. Everywhere I went, people were disappointed that I'd showed up and you hadn't. So I decided to make a name for myself, figuratively and literally. After changing my name, I started doing small errands for people. They still know who I am, but the name change shows that you and I are our own people."

"It's smart," Mike said, running a hand through his hair to slick it back, "But when you're around Dad, be sure to call yourself Cate, like you used to."

"Dad!?" I exclaimed, my chest swelling with hope, "He's alive?"

"I think he must be," Mike replied, knitting his fingers together atop the table, "And I'm going to look for him. Today."

"Where is he?"

"I won't let you endanger yourself, Kaori." He had a tone that said there would be no arguing with him.

Morgan tipped his hat, "I'll also be leaving today. Gonna go get my latest assignment."

"What'll you be delivering?" I asked.

"Not sure yet. I'm just going to get my assignment."

I was intrigued now. "Have you ever delivered something dangerous?"

He nodded, "You bet your cute butt I have, Freckles. Plenty. You know, there is one thing I fear. That one day, one job is gonna come back, and bite me in the behind." He lit up a cigar and took a long drag, focused on some distant thought. He let his free hand rest in the pocket of his dusty trenchcoat.

Mike took a sip of Nuka-Cola and crossed his arms, "Charon, promise me you'll take care of my sister. Teach her how to survive out here. She needs to learn how to use a gun, cause her knifework is great, but she can't exactly defend herself with only a knife."

Charon nodded and responded with, "I will do whatever she wishes." Yep, he was very drunk. He'd never say he would teach me things if he wasn't. I read the contract, knew it didn't mention teaching me anything.

Mike nodded, "Good to know she'll be safe when I'm gone. I know she can take care of herself, she she's still my baby sister, you know? He stood up and stretched, "Well, it's noon..."

Morgan looked up, "Is it? We'd better be off, then!" He stood and pushed his chair under the table.

I stood, and found it hard to keep my balance. My head buzzed pleasantly, and I began to hum. Charon held me by the shoulders, keeping me upright, and it took me a moment to remember why. I was drunk, but hadn't noticed the effects until I'd stood up. I didn't like this, and felt the urge to punch something.

"Catie," Mike said as he hugged me goodbye, "be good, okay?"

"I'll be more than good, Mikey," I replied, wondering how many drinks I'd had.

Morgan tipped his hat, "It's been a pleasure, honey."

"Yes it has," I slurred, starting to feel sleepy. I heard Charon grumble behind me. I pulled the pocket watch out of my satchel and handed it to Morgan. "Remember our family when you think things are getting crappy." That seemed to amuse me, and I giggled.

Charon held my shoulders tighter with his massive hands. He had a strong grip, that much was certain, as my legs had given up on their attempts to support me. He carried me out of the bar and up the stairs, then outside and across the bridge.

"Thanks, buddy," I said as I patted his arm. He wouldn't put me down, and I protested, but he still kept hold on me, carrying me like an infant.

Mike hugged me once more, awkwardly fitting his arms around me as best he could without including Charon in the hug as well.

"Any last words?" I laughed, feeling tired suddenly.

Morgan thought for a moment, then said, "Honor thy dead, after you loot em. Nice guys take the stuff then bury em, okay?"

I laughed more, "Yep, I'll do that."

Mike shook his head and brushed the hair out of my eyes, "I'm gonna find Dad, Catie. Maybe things will go back to normal. All I know is I'm gonna find him. Now go get some rest."

The last thing I remembered before passing out was Charon buying a room in the Weatherly Hotel for the night and grumbling about my lack of alcohol tolerance.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter V

My eyes traced the shape of Kaori's gracefully thin body, curled into a tight ball as she slept. I had no doubt in my mind about it now, as I tended to the fever she'd developed. I was falling for her. Hard.

If it were anyone else in this little room, curled up on the only bed, sick after drinking too much, I'd let them suffer through the fever and vomiting. But this girl was different. I couldn't see her in pain. She was the one who changed my world from the dingy, dark interiors of Underworld to the bright, warm sun of the Wasteland.

She stirred slightly, her eyelids twitching as she mumbled in her sleep. I smiled, unable to hold back a chuckle. She seemed even more innocent when she slept than when she was awake. I'd found out tonight that her character had more depth than I initially thought. At first, she seemed to be purely a pretty face with a happy disposition, but now she was so much more than that.

As I sifted through her backpack in search of medicine, I noticed a few things that caught my eye. I tossed the alcohol she'd bought into a corner, the bottles clanking loudly, but not breaking. I knew all too well how horrific the quality of Azhrukhal's liquor was. He really was quite an evil man, putting things in the drinks to make them more addictive so he could drum up more business.

I looked down at the floor, unenthused about the prospects of sleeping on it. A pale hand then darted its way into my periphery and tugged at my belt once. I turned, "You wish to speak with me?"

"I'm cold and I have the worst effing hangover ever," Kaori whined, her eyes still closed and her face flushed a deeper red than her hair.

"I'll try to find something to help," I replied gently, shaking my head at my own feelings. Rummaging again through her backpack, I found a bottle of pain relievers wrapped inside a note written in neat cursive script.

_Freckles, I can smell that hangover coming even from all the way over here. Take these, they might help. Be nice to Charon, he's a great guy._  
_-Morgan_  
_P.S. Thanks for the watch, honey._

"How did..." I began, rubbing my forehead questioningly.

"What is it?" Kaori moaned, holding her own head, although in pain rather than confusion. I tossed the bottle and note to her, and she caught it with the strange, graceful dexterity she'd shown with the knife earlier. She dry-swallowed two pills and read quickly aloud. She raised one eyebrow. "He's one mysterious guy, huh? Well, he doesn't have to worry about my being nice to you. I do that anyway!" A grin spread across her face, revealing her perfect teeth.

"My treatment is not required to be humane." I retorted, the lines of my contract running through my mind.

Her eyebrows knitted themselves into a broken V, and one eye twitched slightly. She opened her mouth to speak, and the left side of her upper lip pulled itself higher than the right, as if an invisible fishhook were trying to catch her. I smiled a little, and she glared at me. "Something funny there? My face, maybe?"

"Well, your face kind of looks like..." I grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil, then drew a comical, exaggerated version of it.

She giggled, "Hey, that's pretty good! Looks just like my annoyed face!" She folded the paper and stuck it in her pocket, "I'm keeping this."

I wondered why she'd want to keep something so meaningless at a drawing, then shrugged and decided it was a vault thing. "Very well."

She crossed her arms, "There's that formality again. I have half a mind to destroy your contract right here."

A shiver raced down my spine, my heart took flight and roosted in my throat. For a moment, I felt human. I collected myself swiftly, and looked around the room for that piece of paper I hated so.

"Looking for this?" Kaori asked in a musical voice, pulling a folded but familiar piece of paper from inside her shirt.

I snatched it out of her hand and felt a disturbed look creep across my face, "Where were you keeping this?"

"Oh!" she said, then pointed to her chest, "It was in my bra! Smart thinking, eh?"

My face grew warm and my palms got sweaty, "Not really. I'm still a guy, so..." I cleared my throat.

Kaori rolled her eyes, "You're reacting the same way Butch would." She paused, "Well, he'd probably also then try to collect himself and add a 'If you wanted something of mine in your underwear, all you had to do was ask!'"

"If you don't mind my asking, who exactly was he to you?"

"Oh, he was my secret friend," Kaori laughed, "I would sometimes go to his room to talk past curfew, when everyone else was sleeping. He was Mike's worst enemy, pretty much. And for a few scattered moments throughout my time in there, he was more than a friend."

I put a hand on her shoulder and tried hard to smile despite the multitude of knots in my chest.

Looking down at my contract, I said, "I wonder how he's taking your being gone."

She rubbed her right forearm. "Probably not well."

"Hey, kid..." I said as soothingly as I could manage with my gravelly voice.

She looked back up at me, "Yeah?"

"Tell me about some of the things you guys used to do together. Or even what it was like when you joined his gang and you didn't have to keep your friendship secret." I wasn't that interested, really, but I couldn't just sit there while she looked so sad.

She grinned, and my heart jumped a little, which made me feel ridiculous. "Well, when I was ten, I snuck into the clinic and gave him my sweetroll and said I was sorry and stuff. I was just trying to keep up appearances when I'd hit him." She paused. "You're the only person I've ever told that." She waited for a response, then smiled kindly when I gave none, and continued, "When I was thirteen, I hit a growth spurt, so to speak. I looked a little older than I was. Anyway, that was the first time since I was ten that he'd spoken to me as if I were human."

"How old was he?" I asked, a little concerned.

"He was sixteen," she replied with a shrug.

I nodded in understanding. Age gaps like that were common in relationships. "So what happened?"

"Well, he told me to come see him after curfew, the way I had before. So I did. And he was expecting something very different than what I was. And when he tried something with me, I grabbed his switchblade and pulled the move I did on you yesterday. It was funny. We spent the night talking after that. It was nice."

"Sounds like he had good reason to fear you," I commented, my interest starting to waver. My gaze left her and settled on the cold metal floor before me. Rust delicately edged the grimy steel, and a tiny bug crawled in one of the corners.

A finger poked me in my back from behind, and I started slightly. "Doesn't look inviting, does it?" Kaori said, sitting cross-legged with her hands in her lap.

It took me a moment to realize she was referring to the floor. "I've no complaints, Kaori. If it is where you wish for me to sleep, it is where I shall sleep."

"Ugh. More formalities."

I sighed and began to grumble to myself about her insistence that I have my own free will.

She raised an eyebrow in agitation, her feverish complexion slightly comical, "You don't want any free will, eh?"

I glared at her, "Finally, you get it. Want a medal?"

She glared back intensely. "Then get in this freaking bed right now."

I looked at her questioningly, "You would sleep on the floor?"

She laughed at me, a cruel, yet lovely smile on her face, "Oh no. You won't be that lucky."

I sat on the corner of the bed, and watched as she stood up. I shrugged, lying down on my back and staring at the rusty ceiling.

Without a word, Kaori plopped down next to me. "Scoot over, you've got all the pillow."

I sat bolt upright, my heart racing as all sorts of things she could be implying by sharing this bed with me coursed through my mind. "What are you doing?!"

"Whatever I want. You belong to me." She leaned toward me with her eyes half-lidded and her mouth open wide, sticking her tongue out straight toward me so that it looked like it pointed sharply at the end. She let out a small noise like a breathy hiss.

I jumped off the bed faster than I'd thought my own body was even capable of. "No! A thousand times no!"

Kaori smirked. "It seems you do have free will. Now get in this bed and sleep facing the opposite direction as me."

And I did. Gratefully.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter VI

I gulped and pulled the trigger on my .44. An explosion of bloody mist erupted from a Raider's bare stomach, and the Raider clutched at her wound as blood spurted from her mouth. She soon slumped over, and her body gave a final sickening twitch. Dead.

My eyes filled to the brim with tears, and I doubled over.

Charon snatched the gun from me and I heard three gunshots.

I looked up. It was clear who was more skilled here. Three headless corpses, and another one with intestines hanging out like crimson ribbons decorating the scarred and filthy body of a woman who was just surviving the only way she knew how.

"Congratulations! Your first cold-blooded murder," they seemed to proclaim as crows landed amongst them, pecking, tearing, feasting. I bet she was still warm.

My vision blurred, and I dropped onto my hands and knees, leaning over the side of the cliff Charon and I were standing on. The little bit of food I'd had in my stomach rose from deep within my throat and poured out of my nose and mouth.

"You're still sick," Charon said, watching me. He knew exactly why I was vomiting, but was preserving my dignity. At least, I was pretty sure that was what he was doing.

I wiped the foul-tasting, liquified contents of my stomach off my lips and chin with the back of a hand. Not like there was much in my stomach to begin with. For three days now, Charon had been teaching me how to shoot precisely, and for three days, I'd been ralphing up anything I'd eaten. Coincidence? Unlikely.

I feebly collapsed and propped myself up against a boulder as best I could. The scorching, bitter taste in my mouth served as a nice reminder of how the past three days had gone.

I silently went over a list of how my victims had ended up. There was a rabid dog whose front legs I'd blown off. Of course, it lived through that. Charon put it out of its misery. Three ghouls on the verge of going feral that I refused to shoot until Charon took my hands in his and pressed my finger against the trigger. Once. Twice. Thrice. That was all it took. And now, this. I found the guts to shoot and what had happened? This Raider lost hers.

Charon sighed impatiently. "Why are you so upset about killing?"

"Where I come from," I started, rubbing my scorched throat, "nobody kills anybody, unless they've done something wrong. Basically, killing is the punishment for killing."

"In case you haven't noticed, that's how the majority of people out here are. You're killing the ones who are trying to kill you." Charon's words sounded as if he were trying not to be harsh.

"You don't effing say," I mumbled, running a hand through my bushy, overgrown locks. Butch would probably have thrown a fit over how thick and unkempt it had become since he'd last trimmed it. Worrying about my hair. God.

Shaking off those ridiculous thoughts, I once again ran my hands through my tousled mane, unaware that it was becoming an obsessive habit.

"Well," Charon began, seemingly unfazed by my sarcastic attitude, "these people would only try to kill someone else, if you didn't kill 'em first. Think of it as... Wasteland justice."

"I'm sorry, did I come across as a symbol of justice and peace on Earth instead of a girl trying to survive in the wasteland?" My lips quivered, and I bit down on my tongue to keep from blurting out more.

"Go on," Charon urged, propping himself against the same boulder as me.

"Am I that transparent?" I released with a pent-up breath and a weak smile, running a hand through my hair.

"Like glass, kid." He put a cold, rough hand on my shoulder, quite hesitantly, his palm barely making contact with my skin. I smiled as a sense of comfort washed over me. Was that all I needed? Friendly gestures, comforting words?

"I feel like I should have brought Butch out with me. He'd face the bad people, the rabid animals, the crazed robots... And he'd feel no remorse. They try to kill him first, so he kills them. That's logic he would have no problems with. Now I'll never see him again, because I wanted him to be safe in there. I should never have-"

Charon's hand pressed harder against my shoulder, his grip tightening. "He's safer there, I feel. You did the right thing."

With a sharp and tense intake of breath, I checked the time and flicked my eyes around the immediate area. "This won't do for the night. We need to find somewhere to sleep."

Charon threw his pack down and shook his head. "You kidding? We're safer up here than in ninety percent of the wasteland."

I sighed, grudgingly accepting that he was right, and I was only restless. I threw my pack down and began untying the knots holding my bedroll onto it. After a few minutes, I had my half of camp set up, but Charon was already done.

"How did you do that faster than me?" I asked, pulling a few cans out of my pack and testing their weight unconsciously.

"Practice." He sure was helpful.

Feeling as if I needed to fill the silence, I shifted and unzipped my pack, pulling out two pairs of leather gloves and tossing one to Charon. "It's going to get cold."

He pulled them on as I did the same with mine, then made eye contact for a split second, before averting his gaze. "Gloves and no coat?"

"What?" I muttered, before becoming aware of the breeze on my arms and shoulders.

"You even have one?" he asked, his cloudy eyes on the sunset behind me.

"Yeah..." I rummaged through my stuff, pulling out the black leather jacket that I'd gotten to call my own during those last few weeks I was in the vault. As it slid it on, the still-strong smell of cigarettes wafted into my nose. It was a nostalgic scent, for some reason, and made me feel quite happy.

"Alright, good. You won't freeze to death tonight." Charon's eyes were working over every detail of my jacket again, as if he were trying to take in all the aspects of it. It was, once again, as if there were another world inside what he was staring at, and I cleared my throat to catch his attention.

"I-I, er, feel uncomfortable with you staring like that." I gave a nervous, but half-serious chuckle.

"My sincerest apologies." It was empty, a robotic response.

I pursed my lips in thought and grinned, digging my hands into the pockets of my jacket. The sound of crinkling paper greeted my ears as I yanked them out, several thick pieces of paper in my hands. I stepped over to Charon and held them out, waiting for him to take them.

His sticky, cold hand brushed against mine as he took them with a more delicate approach than I had taken.

"Photographs..." His gaze wandered over the first crumpled picture. It was a badly-taken one of myself and my dad, Mike's face in the corner, accidentally cut off by myself when I'd set up the camera. I remembered crying after it was developed when I realized how terrible it'd been, but dad had smiled and ruffled my hair, before putting it in a frame in his office.

"That one's about ten years old," I explained, running a hand through my hair.

Handing the photo to me, he examined the next one, the slightest smile creeping over what was left of his lips. I grinned as well upon seeing myself at my tenth birthday party. The photo had been taken right as I'd decked Butch in the face. The look on Mike's face was what made me keep the photo. He was laughing, and seemed genuinely proud of his sister.

Charon wordlessly handed the photo back to me and flipped the next one over to examine it. It was a shot Butch had snapped of me unexpectedly, hooking me by the waist and grinning. it was taken a week after Mike had left, and my face held a tired, but happy cast, as the impromptu photo had made me laugh a little.

He handed that one back, looking a little somber.

"Sorry, that's all I have on me." My eyes drifted up toward the sky, before flicking back to Charon. I hugged my knees against my chest as a chilling wind blew. "What was it like for you growing up?"

"I..." Charon fumbled, "I don't remember."

"Don't remember or don't want to share?" I pursed my lips again, nibbling on the lower one a bit nervously.

"I don't want to share it." Charon's milky blue eyes were focused on something distant, as if he were looking at something outside my field of vision.

"Well, I guess we could listen to the radio instead of talking, if you want." My fingers hovered over the knobs on my Pip-Boy already. I was eager to hear a little music, anyway.

Charon chuckled slightly, a sound like rocks shifting underfoot, followed by a wheezing cough that would most likely frightened away any nearby small animals. "Well, now you know why I don't laugh."

"So it's not because you're full of sadness about your lack of freedom?" I joked, patting my chest protectively, as I always kept Charon's contract tucked inside one of the cups of my bra for safe keeping.

"Turn on the damn radio." Charon lit up a cigarette as he spoke, inhaling deeply and exhaling moments later in one smooth motion, the grey wisps zigzagging through the air as they left his lungs.

I grinned, remembering the time several weeks back when the Tunnel Snakes had gotten me to smoke a cigarette. I had coughed and gagged for three solid minutes, and been called all sorts of names which implied how much of a lightweight I was.

Charon reached over and turned the dial on my Pip-Boy himself, blowing smoke out of the holes where his nostrils had once been. It was such a comical sight, I couldn't help but let out a giggle. He responded in kind with some semblance of a smile.

_Hey, nifty America, it's me, your president, John Hen-_  
_Hahaa, gotcha! Three Dog here, how's everyone doin'?_

Charon and I listened to several songs, and I even sang along with a few of them. Apparently, the radio signal wasn't all that strong a while ago, and Charon was glad to hear the station clearly once again.

After a particularly bad crooning of Easy Living, my heart skipped a beat upon hearing the latest news in the wasteland.


	7. Chapter 6,5

_Grab your hankies, children, cause I've got a heart-warming tale to tell. It's about a little boy's search for his... for his daddy. Waaaahh!_

I choked on the last puff of my cigarette, wheezing throughout the next sentence or two.

Kaori actually held up a hand for me to be quiet, and I realized just how serious this was for her.

_You see, the kid from Vault 101 has been looking for his dad, a very nice man named James, who left his son and daughter behind in the vault when he took off. What kind of dad leaves his kids in an underground bunker?_

"A damn good one," I heard Kaori growl through gritted teeth.

_Children, I just don't know. It ain't for Three Dog to judge, and you shouldn't either._

"Exactly, so everyone shoul-" she grumbled once more, before freezing mid sentence upon hearing the next bit.

_But none of that matters now! Father and son were spotted walkin' and talkin' together out there in the Wastes. Here's hoping they can hold onto each other this time around._

"Daddy!" Kaori sprang up like cornered rattlesnake, her hand reflexively slicking her hair back away from her freckled forehead. "We have to go to Rivet City again!"

I would most likely have listened to her a few days ago, but tonight...

Tonight, I simply wormed my way into my bedroll and muttered, "We'll make better time traveling during the day."


	8. Chapter 7

I stared across the table at my father. He looked almost wary, as if he were worried one of us children would deck him in the mouth for leaving us. Honestly, I wouldn't put that past me. I was happy to see him, but my feelings had culminated into a fair amount of confusion and a betrayed kind of hurt since I'd gotten to Rivet City.

"Well," Mike began, his eyebrow furrowed with what could have been worry or well-concealed agitation, "I know he didn't leave us there for anything other than the possibility of safety."

"I..." My heart had sank deep into my gut by now, and admitting this did hurt quite a bit. I wanted to be angry, dramatic. I stammered out instead, "I figured as much."

Dad then cut in, in his most soothing of voices, "I knew you kids were mature enough to understand. You know that as your father, I love you, and well, I hated to ask for your help on this project, but your mother would be so proud to know that you're helping out."

"Well, I don't want any of my family getting killed or anything, do I? Not much of a choice I have, but I'm always willing to help my daddy, right?" I crossed my arms and looked over at Charon, who placed a hand on my shoulder silently, the comfort of his hand ironically feeling like a giant relief being lifted off my shoulders.

Mike seemed a bit more understanding of the whole ordeal than I was, and I couldn't say that I was surprised. He always was the more mature one, after all.

Morgan sat behind him and ordered a drink amidst all the dramatic tension, his only explanation for it being, "Come on, kiddos. Why would I pass up drinks at a time like this?"

I raised a hand into the air, "I might as well have one, just since it's no fair to let someone else drink alone."

Morgan chuckled and slid over a shot full of whiskey.

I downed it all at once, and it burned like hellfire going down.

Charon put a hand over the glass, "Alright, that's all she gets today, unless someone else wants to carry her out of here."

Dad looked rather appalled at this, and agreed with Charon. "Catie, what's happened to you?"

I looked over at Charon, "He calls me that. Short for Catherine. Not sure if you-"

"I knew."

"Oh, right. You were there last time when we-"

My dad interrupted by clearing his throat. "I brought you both here to tell you something important. It's something that I knew and did not tell the two of you because we were living in the vault, and keeping it so that the two of you thought you were born there was a priority."

I looked over at my father, my features cast rather seriously, my brow furrowed in focus and my lips pursed as I listened.

Dad sighed. "There's no easy way to go about this, so I have to spit it right out. You have a brother."

"I know I have a brother, he's right the-" I paused mid-sentence, realizing what he meant by this. I had a brother somewhere from... what? A drunken escapade of my father? This was scandalous, the kind of thing that Butch's unknown father would have done, not mine.

"You seem to misunderstand, Catie," Dad began again.

Charon whispered to me, "Like glass again," and my features cleared as I realized that even my father could see right through me.

"Catie," Dad said soothingly, putting a hand on my forearm, "This is going to be harder for you to stomach more than anyone else. I suppose I should just come out with it. You weren't the only baby born on the day your mother died. In fact, she died from giving birth to twins without proper medicine. You have to understand, it's a wasteland out here. We had no idea there would be two of you."

I felt crushed, as if someone had stepped on me and rearranged my organs as their foot was on its way off my chest. "Well, I don't see why you wouldn't tell me that. Who was he?" I felt a strange tugging sensation at my chest as I thought for a split second that maybe it could be Butch. After all, who knew his father?

"He seemed stillborn, Catie. That's why he was never taken to the vault with us."

I felt like a monster for this, but I was a little relieved. I then felt a bit silly for even thinking someone three years older than me could even be my twin. "So why are you telling me this now? And wait, _seemed_?"

"Because he was still alive and I had been too careless to check. I was so distraught over his and your mother's deaths that a Brotherhood member who was going to give your mother and the baby a burial was the one who noticed that he was alive after I'd left. It didn't cry or so much as whimper to show that it was alive or hungry. I corresponded with the Brotherhood for years getting updates on the baby, and he's got less of an idea who he really is than we do. I know who he is, but he doesn't. It must be a sad existence for him.

All I really know is that we named him Jason before he was born. He's in the Brotherhood right now, and has no idea the rest of his family is out there."

I stood up, shoving my chair backward as I did so, slamming both my hands on the table and wincing as I heard the chair clatter to the floor. "I want to find him. He's my twin brother. I mean, goddamn, look at me. It can't be that hard to find a red-headed Brotherhood member."

"Fraternal twin, so he won't be as easy to spot as you are," Mike piped up. "Yeah, you never get cases of boy-girl identical twins, since they split off from the same egg. You guys could look worlds apart."

"Dammit!" I already felt a strange sense of closeness to this brother, just from knowing we were born at the same time.

Charon crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Not much you can do."

"You don't say." I picked my chair back up and sat down, huffing a breath out and blowing a lock of hair off of my nose. This was going to be a long night, and tomorrow morning, we were going to do this 'Project Purity_'_ thing. I needed all the sleep I could get.


	9. Chapter 8

Kaori was on edge, I could tell even from behind. She was rigid as she stood in front of the door to the purifier.

"The person in charge is to step forward immediately, and turn over all materials related to this project." The man talking to Kaori and Mike's father was not particularly large or intimidating, but he held a certain air about him that told me he felt he was the strongest and most important person in the room.

James spoke now, after not even a moment of thought. "That's quite impossible. This is a private project; the Enclave has no authority here. I'm going to have to ask you to leave at once."

The Enclave... I knew very little about them, despite my age. I knew they had an outpost up north, and had more advanced technology than even the Brotherhood, but that was the extent of my knowledge. I'd been under contract for far too long to have collected much more than that.

I looked at Kaori again. Standing a few feet behind her, I couldn't see her expression, but she was fiddling with the door, trying to get it open. Mike stood close to her, as if trying to calm her down. He bore a rigid pose similar to her own, though, and his hands were just as ready to yank the door open as hers were.

"Am I to assume, sir, that you are in charge?" That voice... I wanted to paint the wall with his brains just from hearing it. He was getting in the way of James' work, and by extension, in the way of my employer. I bit down on the side of my cheek and crossed my arms, wishing this glass door was thin enough to shatter with a bullet.

"Yes, I'm responsible for this project." James looked serious and unhindered by the fact that he had plasma rifles pointed right at him.

The man still stood with hands behind his back, pompously spewing out every word with careful, enunciated precision that screamed for appraisal from some unpresent higher-up. "Then I repeat, sir, that you are hereby instructed to immediately hand over all materials related to the purifier."

"I'm sorry, but that's-"

"Furthermore, you are to assist Enclave scientists in assuming control of the administration and operation of this facility at once."

"Is this guy nuts?!" Kaori yelled, her temper flaring. She turned to me, and then looked at Mike from the corner of her eye, "Why would he just give up everything he and our mom worked for? I'd kill him if his boyfriends over there weren't covering his ass." Seeming to be forgetting that she would probably end up unable to shoot in the end, she kicked at the glass door before her and continued, "And let's not forget this door being in the way."

"Keep your anger in check," Mike said, shaking his head.

Dr. Li nodded, as if to agree, her brow furrowed, but kept her eyes focused on James. I firmly believed that this woman held a grudge against the two of them for keeping James from being here years ago.

James began to speak once again, "Colonel... Is it Colonel? I'm sorry, but the facility is not operational. It never has been. I'm afraid you're wasting your time here."

"Sir, this is the last time I am going to repeat myself. Stand down at once, and turn over control of this facility."

"Colonel, I assure you that this facility will not function. We have never been able to successfully replicate test results..."

The Colonel drew his gun and shot the assistant who'd accompanied James into the purifier in one swift motion. She screamed as she fell, her blood beginning to pool around her quickly. It was a fatal shot.

Everyone, including myself, let out a gasp as things took a turn for the violent.

At this point, I began to play out what would happen if I'd gotten inside and shoved the barrel of my shotgun in the Colonel's mouth. In the end, my lack of power armor would be my downfall, and I'd likely just put Kaori in danger. What I wouldn't do right now to stop this hindrance from being in her way, though...

I pulled her away from the door and held her tightly against my waist. She viciously strugged in my grip, but couldn't break it. Mike nodded his head in approval at me and turned his attention back to the scene before us.

"I suggest you comply immediately, sir, in order to prevent any more incidents. Are we clear?"

There was an edge of irritation in James' voice as he cast a look toward his children, then replied to the Colonel. "Yes, Colonel. I'll do whatever you want; there's no need for more violence."

"Then you will immediately hand over all materials related to this project, and aid us in making it operational at once." An automatic response. He was used to saying it by now.

"Very well. Give me a few moments to bring the system online." James turned to the control panel behind him and began to press buttons and turn dials.

"Enough of these delays." The Colonel was irritated now. I gripped Kaori tighter as she fought me more fiercely.

"It'll only be a few more moments." James sounded quite sure of himself now, his back turned to the Colonel.

An explosion sounded, and I heard the Geiger Counters on two Pip-Boys begin to tick. That was no ordinary explosion. The Colonel and his soldiers fell began twitching and squirming, groaning in pain as they fell to the ground, dying.

James struggled to stumble over to the door, clearly in pain as his feet dragged along the floor. He made eye contact with his children for one last time, pressing his palms against the glass weakly. "Run... Run!"

My arms limply fell to my sides.

Kaori ran to the glass and began pounding on it with both her fists. She screamed louder than I could imagine she was capable of, then shrieked, "I won't leave without you!" She pounded at the glass for several seconds before the tears began to pour down her cheeks.

James fell to the ground, his body limp and lifeless.

Mike tried to pull Kaori from the glass, and she bit his arm, screaming, "NO!" He flinched at the bite and freed her, and she clawed at the glass, ripping her fingernails in the process and leaving bloody trails behind. I leaned over and pulled her to her feet as she fought me with all her might. Using all the strength I had, I hauled her over my shoulder and gripped her by the waist and legs.

Mike had accepted the fact that his father wanted them out of there rather quickly and knew the time to mourn was later, but it seemed Kaori would need to be carried out of here.

She suddenly stopped fighting and hung there over my shoulders like a ragdoll. I wouldn't take the risk of putting her down now, for fear that she wouldn't leave, so I held her even tighter.

Dr. Li turned to us. "James... He's gone... We have to get out of here. They'll be coming for us next. We've got to evacuate now!"

Mike talked to Dr. Li... I barely paid attention. I was much more focused on Kaori's state of mind right now. It seemed like she was in shock. I followed Mike and Dr. Li as they lead the way out of here.

-

Mike had handled every Enclave soldier in our path beautifully. In fact I felt I couldn't have done a better job myself. That Morgan had taught him well. I hadn't even had to fire a single shot; not that I could have with Kaori hanging over my shoulders. Keeping her safe was the main priority, and I'd managed to take every bullet that she'd have taken otherwise.

When we got here, I sat her down in the first chair I could find. I'd been trying for hours now to get her to respond, and all I'd gotten out of her was a blank stare.

"Kaori," I said her name for the millionth time, trying to get her attention.

Her eyes rolled upward toward mine, the once-brilliant green now looking muddy and haunted, "That's not my name."

I tilted my head to the side and held in a grin, as she'd finally replied, even if it was with something so confusing. "What do you mean?"

"My name is Catie." She pulled out my contract out of her leather top and looked me right in the eyes. "I don't want this anymore."

She opened up the folded paper and crushed my existence beneath her foot as she tore it in half.


	10. Chapter 9

The door to my room in the Weatherly Hotel slung open fiercely on its hinges with a violent squeal of protest, a scene which reminded me of the first day I recruited Charon. The tables were turned this time, however, as he stood in my doorway and recited a line to me which both caused my pulse to quicken and my eyes to widen.

I'd been in this room for nearly two weeks now, not bothering to do much more than read and re-read a few old books stowed away in my backpack. I was barely even eating. Charon had stuck around but kept his distance for the most part after I'd torn up his contract, and I couldn't say it didn't annoy me. Perhaps he really did think of me as more than just an employer, but I felt like he most likely still considered himself still under contract, even without a piece of paper to prove it.

Charon had followed me from the Citadel all the way to Rivet City after I parted ways with Mike, who had agreed to do whatever the Brotherhood told him to do in order to avenge our father's death in one way or another. He seemed to have gotten much more protective of me, but I was still mourning, and refused to go with him as he headed for Megaton to get his things ready for the trip the Brotherhood was sending him on. He'd offered for me to stay at his house in Megaton, but I just couldn't get that close to the vault without feeling like I needed to go back inside, back to the safety and order that living there offered.

"There's a kid in a vault suit in the Muddy Rudder." Charon announced, seeming to expect me to shoot out of my seat like a rocket.

I looked up at him after spending a few seconds staring at the floor with wide eyes. My heart wouldn't stop racing as I considered the possibility that it could be one of my friends. Despite my excitement, though, I was pissed. Who would leave the safety and comfort of the vault to follow in Mike's and my footsteps?

To my displeasure, I did exactly what Charon expected of me, though it was a delayed reaction. I stood up from my chair so quickly that it fell over. I pulled on a pair of jeans and, my feet bare, stormed out of the room with Charon behind me.

As I rushed down the staircase, the possibilities ran through my mind a hundred times, but only one person seemed to stand out. Butch had wanted to leave the vault with me before. While my bare feet were pattering on the cold metal of the stairs, I felt more and more angry with each step.

Sure enough, when I entered the Muddy Rudder and descended the stairs inside, there he was, sitting at the bar with a shot glass full of whiskey before him.

Butch DeLoria downed the fiery whiskey and lit up a cigarette, taking a deep drag from it.

My heart felt as if it were attempting to free itself from my ribcage with each beat as I furiously grabbed Butch by the collar of his jacket and shoved him against the nearest wall. My fist wound back and sprung like the hammer on a gun, knocking him in the mouth and busting his lip.

"Why would you leave?!" I screamed, holding my fist at the ready again as he recovered from the sudden attack.

"Catie?" He asked as he lowered my fist with his hands and tried to work my fingers loose from their grip on his collar.

I nodded, tightening my fingers, "Who else? Now answer me, what the hell are you doing out of the vault? I left you behind so that you could be safe, dammit, and now you're out!?"

"The vault is different now, Catie. It's crazy. There ain't a reason to stay in there." He left it at that.

My face softened from its murderous cast and my eyes began to sting as tears welled up in them. I let go of his collar and raised my other arm, wrapping both my arms around his neck as I pulled him closer. I hugged him tightly before pressing my lips against his once in a brief kiss. It tasted like blood, and I felt bad for hitting him.

"I've missed you," I fumbled out, before letting him go.

I turned around, noticing that Charon had a slight smile on his lips.

Before I could take a single step, Butch reached out and grabbed my wrist, "Come sit down with me and have a drink or two. I'm not saying I missed you or nothing, but it's good to see you again..." He wiped the blood from his busted lip with a sleeve.

A smile found its way onto my face for the first time in two weeks, but I still felt upset, the memory of my father's death worming its way into my head. Butch hadn't changed a bit, however, and that served to make me feel slightly better.

I sat down at the nearest table, and Butch and Charon followed suit.

"Charon, this is Butch DeLoria, my old friend." I smiled again as I gestured to the leather-clad greaser.

"Friend? We both know I'm more than that. Ain't no way you can back outta that one, especially now." Butch stuck a toothpick in his mouth and winked in my direction.

"You speak as if that wasn't the first kiss you could get out of me. Definitely wasn't the first punch, though." I raised an eyebrow and held up a fist, my lips curling up in a slight grin.

"Hey, I was only joking! Jeez!" Butch then produced a bottle of whiskey from his pocket. "Freshly bought. You want any?"

I nodded and held my hand out, ready to drown my sorrows in the amber liquid before me. Of course, Charon looked concerned, but he didn't say anything. I guess this meant I'd be hauling my own ass out of here if I got too drunk.

He handed over the whiskey and I took a slight sip, my lips barely touching the bottle.

"Oh come on, I know you can do better than that!" Butch took the bottle from me and guzzled down an enormous gulp, before handing the bottle back to me. "Whatever happened to that time we stole beers from the cafeteria?"

"Well, I, erm..." I could feel the sweat start to bead on my forehead as my face flushed red, "That was beer and this is whiskey... It's a little different."

"She can't handle her liquor." Charon chimed in, looking amused.

"Charon!" I squealed, "You're such a traitor!"

Butch laughed about as loudly and obnoxiously as ever, while Charon let out a gravelly chuckle.

"So," I began, "Tell me about what happened to get you out here. You said it was crazy in there."

"You're gonna need this," Butch said, handing the bottle over to me, holding it by the neck.

I took the bottle, "Thanks."

-

After he'd finished, I took a long drought from the bottle before passing it over to him. A slight hiccup came from deep in my burning throat and I flushed a little.

"Ya know, if it wasn't for your dad we'd all still be in that hole in the ground." Butch didn't sound like he was mocking me; on the contrary, it seemed he was praising my father in a way. However, he could have no idea how badly those words hurt right now.

I gripped at the side of the table and felt a tear betray me and slide down my cheek.

"He's dead." Charon said simply, his voice sounding about as full of emotion as usual, which wasn't saying much.

"Oh man, don't have a cow about it, I didn't know, okay?" Butch said, ever the sensitive one, as he passed me the bottle again.

-

When I woke up, I was on my bed in the Weatherly. My eyes wandered about the room. Butch was sleeping, slumped against the nearest wall to me. Charon sat in a chair across the room, reading a book. I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.


End file.
